


Dismissed

by babyboyisak



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sebastian Michaelis, Dom Ciel Phantomhive, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Edging, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Prostate Massage, SebaCiel - Freeform, Sub Sebastian Michaelis, Top Ciel Phantomhive, demonic nature, desperate sebastian michaelis, sebastian getting rekt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyboyisak/pseuds/babyboyisak
Summary: "I can not lie to my master. I am not allowed to, and I am unable to. Bound by the contract mark that is etched into the back of my hand and into my very being, I have to tell him the truth in its entirety, no matter what.This sometimes proves… Troublesome, to say the very least."
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 11
Kudos: 280





	1. Chapter 1

_I can not lie to my master. I am not allowed to, and I am unable to. Bound by the contract mark that is etched into the back of my hand and into my very being, I have to tell him the truth in its entirety, no matter what._

_This sometimes proves… Troublesome, to say the very least.  
_

_________

  
The Earl of Phantomhive was no longer my “young master.” He had grown, and he would promptly reprimand me if I were to call him by those words at that point in time. 

Still, the day he brought up the possibility of a sexual relationship between the two of us, it surprised me quite a lot. He simply called me into his room one day, a sheet of paper with a bullet list in front of him on his desk.

My master has always been blunt and direct, voicing his demands and ideas without hesitating, but he has never been one to show vulnerability to anyone.

Whilst talking, he tried to be matter-of-factly and business-like, but underneath his expressionless facade, it was easy to read in his eyes what I had known for quite some time.

He desired me.

My initial surprise quickly faded when he started to ask me questions. Questions that I was not capable of answering simply or briefly. He had thought this through, and he was not doing anything to hide this fact from me.

To begin with, his questions were simple enough. Did I desire him in this way? Yes. Would I want to act upon these desires at this point in time? Yes. Was I aware that he had no experience with physical intimacy? Yes. Was this a problem? No. I was already very certain of these facts, and I saw no reason to hide them from him.

He shamelessly kept asking me his questions no matter how personal, as though this was a trial. A human being would likely have been taken aback and uncomfortable if put in this situation, but my master knew me. Knew that I was able to answer accurately without needing time to think things through. He did not make me flustered, but I was very aware that any human being would have been.

“Would you be willing to take on a submissive role?”

“Yes.”

“All the time?”

“Yes.” Although that was not usually my preferred role.

His last question that day also surprised me. I had not expected him to truly care about the matter, but it appeared that he did.

“You say you desire me, and that you would be willing to do these things. But, are you answering as my butler Sebastian, who has to be loyal and who is bound by a contract, or are you answering as who you truly are?”

“It is in my nature to want to please and accommodate my master. But even so, the answer to your last question is a resounding yes. I can not lie to you.” My face was expressionless.

“Very well. That will be all. I will contact you again soon about the matter, but you may leave now. I have work that needs my attention.” 

The following day, he took me in for what can only be referred to as further questioning.

Once again, he surprised me. The things he wanted to know, no human had asked me in ages, if ever. In any case, not this in-depth.

I found myself telling him about my race. About how our physically manifested bodies function and whether they have any needs. What their capabilities are when compared to a true human. Those kinds of things.

“What of your… Essence, then. The part that is not physical. Does that part have any needs that absolutely need to be tended to?”

“Yes, it does. None of those needs will cause me to perish though, no matter how negligent I am of them. Rather, they will simply cause me to lose control of myself more and more.”

“What are they, then?”

“Hunger, and indulgence in the individual demon’s sin.” At this, he let out an amused huff.

“Demons have assigned sins? Like humans have character traits?”

“Demons have character traits too, but put very simply, yes.”

“Very well. And what is yours, then?”

“It is something resembling lust.”

“I see.” He paused, leaning back in his chair crossing his arms. “Can the need for these things be satisfied through your physical body?” I could not help but be pleased that he had stopped asking about demons in general, and asked the question specifically about me.

“Yes, they can. Many demons are very closely tied with the physical world. It is common.” He nodded.

“This last question is only because I am curious. Your kind, do they usually enjoy being in control, or do you enjoy submitting?”

“I have no choice but to submit to my master,” I replied with a bright smile. He scoffed.

“You know very well what I mean, Sebastian. Answer me properly.”

“Yes, I apologise.” How very easily angered he was… I was still smiling most warmly. “Demons typically prefer being in control, but most are versatile.”

“Well then. You are dismissed for now.”

How peculiar, I thought as I left his office. He seemed to be in no rush to carry out what his words promised. Though I did not much fancy the thought that a human had stirred me this way, I could not deny that he had my interest piqued.

Over the next few days, however, my master satisfied my curiosity most generously. 

I followed strict orders, both during our encounters and outside of them. Our play was constant, though not always active, in the sense that he expected me to always be available to him at a moment’s notice.

For some reason, he had made it very clear that if I truly did not enjoy myself, I was to let him know immediately. I doubt that he had it in him to do anything I would feel… uncomfortable with. But, this was important to him, and he had made a big number out of making sure I would not lie to him in this matter. It was not common for humans to care so much about this sort of thing; most simply wanted to greedily satisfy themselves.

His first command when he wanted to initiate a scene was almost always the same. To lock the door behind me and strip naked. He seemed to enjoy watching me slip out of my clothes, and always openly watched me from his bed, or from behind his desk. It became a habit for me to follow this request quickly but elegantly; patience was certainly not his greatest virtue.

Apparently, he had meant it when he asked me whether I would mind playing the submissive role in all our encounters. He showed no sign of wanting to give up the control he had over me. In fact, he seemed to relish in our contract and the power it gave him over me, in the promises I had made to him, and in knowing I would not lie under any circumstance. 

On this particular night, he summoned me to his bedroom when I was only halfway through my evening duties.

As per usual, I was told to undress fully, and within a minute of silence between the two of us, and plenty of him watching me intently, I was nude. He instructed me to sit down, but not on his bed. On a table. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked at me expectantly.

“You heard me.”

“I did, my lord.”

Sitting down on his table, the edge of it against the insides of my knees, I waited to see what he would do. There was a chair right next to me, and he pulled it out and dragged it to sit in front of me. Then, nudging my legs apart, he sat down. His hands were not as cold as they sometimes were. Perhaps, I thought, he had been thinking about this for a while, even longed for it, his little heart beating faster and heating his body.

Still, I had no idea what his intentions were.

“Lie down,” he demanded, and I did.

He pulled the chair a little closer, and by now he was all but sitting in between my legs. The table was relatively low, and he could sit comfortably while looking at me all he wanted, at every inch of my skin.

I could almost feel his eyes trailing lines on my exposed flesh. Glancing down at him, his expression was nearly blank, but there was a hint of something else. He was pleased. He was looking at his possession. I was _his_ , his to use however he desired.

The human form I had taken on around nine years ago was one that most humans would find aesthetically pleasing at the very least. And, for most humans attracted to men, I looked desirable. It seemed that my master thought so, too. Even if he had never said it out loud, his actions gave it away. He liked to look at me, and I was pleased that he enjoyed my illusion.

“You are not to move unless I tell you to. You may not touch yourself, or me, and you will keep your arms by your sides. You may make as much sound as you want, and say what you want.” I nodded. It was a simple order.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Before I knew it, he was pouring oil directly onto my member to make for a smoother sensation. I flinched almost unnoticeably as the cool liquid came in contact with my much hotter skin. It had a pleasant scent.

I closed my eyes, letting myself simply feel the movements of his hands as he touched me. He moved slowly, but it was not long before I was fully erect. He commented on how quickly I had become aroused. I knew he did not mean to mock me, but rather that he was pleased with how responsive I was. This was not the first time he had implied as much.

Before long, his hands and the oil were warming up from the friction. Each stroke he gave me meant a pleasant, relieving feeling of heat moving up along my damp skin only to move back down, again and again, unrelenting but oh, so slow. His hand was forming a tight circle around me, and he was making an effort to let his fist slide almost all the way off the tip with every stroke, his fingers making for a torturously perfect sensation as they easily moved over the ridge just below my glans.

I was panting. My cock was so hard, and my master’s hand felt exquisite. He had only ever had me as a sexual partner, but he was a quick study - though only with things he was truly keen on learning. Perceptive and attentive, he read my body language as though he was brought up speaking it. And he responded to it accordingly. I was fairly certain he had made a physical paper map of my body, one that showed where my most sensitive spots were, where to touch to elicit the best reaction from me. Map or no map, he knew just what to do.

Still feeling his curious eyes on me, I found myself close to writhing in his hands. I kept still though. Well, almost. The effort to keep my hips motionless caused my lower body to tremble, but other than that, I did not move.

He had not once changed the pace with which he moved his hand, and oh, how I craved more. This was a candle, and I needed a forest fire. But, of course, he knew exactly what he wanted, and he gave me no more despite my occasional plea for him to move faster. I might as well have tried to bargain with the ring on his finger. But I knew it did not fall on deaf ears. Once in a while when I stole a glance at him, I could see how immensely he was enjoying himself. He was positively high on a power trip. I groaned, another shiver running through me, from the bottom of my spine to the top of my skull.

I had long ago lost track of time when I felt myself nearing my climax. And with that, another rule came into play. A rule that was always in effect unless he said otherwise.

“Master, I am getting close,” I breathed. He immediately slowed down, almost to a stop, and I _nearly_ moved my hips to buck into his hand. Instead, a rather embarrassing noise made its way through my throat, something resembling a whimper.

“How close exactly?” he wanted to know.

“You could make me come within seconds.” He stopped. And I gritted my teeth. Without me realising it, my hands had found the edge of the table and were clenching at it, hard. My cock, now without his hand around it, was heavy and warm against my stomach, and it nearly ached from the loss of friction.

“May I please-“ I began, but he cut me off.

“You may come when I say so.” Before I could answer him, he had wrapped his fingers around my cock again, less tightly this time. Keeping still at the base, unmoving, he looked at me with a little grin on his lips.

“What do you want?” I knew him well enough to know what he wanted me to say. My voice was more breathless than I would have liked when I replied.

“Please stroke my cock, master.” He did. Achingly slowly. The small pause had made sure I was not quite so close to my climax any more. As soon as he began moving his hand, a clear bead of fluid gathered at the tip of my length, giving away just how much I was enjoying this - as though he did not already know.

It was not long until his touch had me nearly there again.

“I am close,” I managed, my voice more of a moan than anything else. Once again, he let go when I spoke, and there was nothing I could do. My hands stayed by my sides gripping uselessly at the edge of the table, and even if I had moved my hips, they would only have found thin air.

Panting heavily, a little hum coming out with each huff of breath, I focused on keeping my body under control. Or trying to, at least. It was steadily becoming more and more challenging to keep my hips where they were, and my fingers itched to touch either myself or him.

This time, he waited merely a few seconds before he started to touch me again. I all but yelped when I felt his fingers on my skin; I was so sensitive that I could have hardly held it back even if I had tried.

Hands still moving smoothly due to the more than plentiful lubrication, he did the same thing again - he kept going until I had to stop him. I found that it was difficult to say the word, knowing he might very well stop as soon as I said it. Still, I managed.

“Hah… Close,” I gritted out, quietly. This time when he pulled away, I looked at him, wanting to try and read him. Expressionless, he reached for the bottle of oil that was sitting next to me on the table. He poured some into his, until now, free hand, looking into my eyes

“From now on, you will speak up whenever you are close. You are _not_ allowed to come. Do you understand?” I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Yes, master,” I replied dutifully, although I wanted to protest more than anything.

“Good.”

Again, it only took seconds from he stopped touching me until he began once more. I could feel one of his hands wrapping around the head of my erection, giving it a slow, languid stroke all the way to the base of it and stopping there.

When the other hand joined in, I realised that he meant to touch me like this, my foreskin pulled out of the way to leave my most sensitive skin vulnerable to him.

 _Feeling_ it, though, was very different from realising it was going to happen. The tight ring of his fingers forced a strained groan from me, very much audible even though my mouth remained closed.

More and more frequently, I had to concentrate and will my hips to stay where they were. I wanted to do as he said, wanted nothing more than to make him pleased with me. But as time passed, he brought me so, so close to orgasm again and again, meticulously, mercilessly, and I was starting to doubt that I would be able to carry out his orders. Although I knew that I must. My hands tightened a little around the edge of the table. The muscles in my abdomen were starting to ache more than just a little; they were constantly tensing up and then relaxing, seemingly on their own accord.

Just then, he out a little laugh, and I looked at him. I undoubtedly looked quite disheveled from where he was sitting.

“You are so sensitive, Sebastian. Look at you, all red and swollen,” he praised. His voice was soft. I had no quick-witted comeback, only another moan that he personally pulled from my lungs, and an urgent plea.

“Master, my master, may I please come, please,” I begged. His answer was simple.

“I won’t repeat myself,” he said curtly, pulling his hands away from me.

I think I whimpered or made some other undignified sound when my head fell back onto the table. My mind was foggy, and all I could think about was how much I wanted his hands on me again, bringing even just the smallest bit of relief.

When he _did_ touch me again, I could feel myself throbbing in his hand, and _oh_ , I was only barely keeping still. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to push myself against his hand more, faster, to find relief. All I could do was try and plead with him, a stream of little curses, praises and fervent prayers making their way past my lips.

“Your fangs are showing,” he informed me, his cool voice pulling me out of my own thoughts. I had not meant to let them become visible.

Again, I warned him that I was close. By now my body was not the only thing trembling, my voice was too. It was a struggle to say the words knowing they would make him pull away, and so they came out as a reluctant gasp, followed by a stutter of my hips moving helplessly against a hand that had already pulled away.

My master got up from his seat, pushing the chair away and picking up the bottle of oil once more. I watched him through my lashes, searching for any sign that he might let me come soon. I did not know what I was looking for.

“Come closer,” he demanded. I scooted towards him as best I could with my legs hanging off the edge of the table.

Every breath I took was laboured, my chest heaving with the effort, and when he poured more oil on me, it did not exactly have a calming effect. Neither did it when he nudged at my legs guiding me to pull them up against my chest, still every bit as far apart as they had been the whole time.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes taking me in as he stood over me. Without much ado, he let two fingers slip inside me, the oil making the movement smooth and easy. It did not hurt me, and he knew as much.

“It has been well over an hour since you came in here. You are doing well, Sebastian. And so tight for me…” I hummed deep in my throat, unable to think of a better response. He was working his fingers inside me, hard and deep, his free hand pinning my hips to the table.

I watched him, unmoving, as he pulled his fingers away, leaving me impossibly more lightheaded than I already were. He made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and pulling them aside. He was fully erect and I had expected as much, but nothing could compare to seeing his cock, having it close to me, knowing I would get to feel it, all of that along with its scent… I drank in every part of the sensation.

“I am going to fuck you. The same rules still apply,” he stated calmly, although it was apparent - even to me in my riled up state - that he was in a hurry. I could not blame him.

“Hold yourself open for me.” I blinked. But he had no time for my confusion. He grabbed both of my wrists and guided my hands to where he wanted them, both of them cupping my ass.

“There, now use your fingers to— Yes, like that. Keep your hands like that and do _not_ move them away.” I swallowed whatever was left of saliva in my throat. With my own hands, I was exposing myself to him so lewdly, and I did not know how to feel about the fact that right now, I was desperately wanting everything he was giving me.

The look in his eyes when he looked at me just then… It was incredible. His touches before had lit me on fire, but this did too, in its own way. He looked possessive, all but _consumed_ with lust, starving for me, and I relished in it.

“Please, master, have me.” Rarely had I said anything more sincere than this, or more urgent. He knew which buttons to push, and he had used this knowledge to the fullest.

I flexed my fingers against the plump flesh of my cheeks, pulling them apart just a bit further. He groaned, making quick work of lubricating his cock. His eyes were dark, and he never took them off me.

When he pushed inside, it was without much finesse, and with very little gentleness. It was not needed, and he knew I could take what he was dishing out.

The strained groans that fell from his lips were music, mingling with my own staccato breathing to create something truly, sinfully beautiful.

However, the undisturbed piece did not last long.

Before I knew it he was moving, and I was gasping for breath. My master had never been one to be gentle, but on that day this was especially true. I suppose I could not blame him though; he had given me so much attention without getting any himself.

The table had the perfect height for him to stand up comfortably and have his way with me. He thrusted into me without restraint, over and over, his hips slamming against my backside. It was so good. He felt so good. I was being loud, moaning and panting, a string of mantras slipping past my lips.

 _Master, master, master. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours. Use me, take me, fuck me_.

Had he had the right angle, I would have reached orgasm quickly. Instead, by intentionally angling his thrusts away from my prostate, he could fuck me as hard as he pleased without worrying about me suddenly losing control. Rather than reaching my climax, I was assaulted with an onslaught of sensation that lead nowhere, his cock harshly rubbing against my insides so good it nearly hurt. And the entire time, I was forced to keep my hands where they were, welcoming him inside my body.

I was so, so sensitive. All of me. I had waited and wanted, and now he was giving himself to me. Every cell in my body had been more than ready for him, and were now high on the sensation of him, all over, pounding into me mercilessly.

Against my stomach, my cock was lying helplessly untouched, neglected since my master had entered me. Heat radiated from the hardened flesh, the blood pulsing through it making it throb against my abdomen. Not a second passed where I did not desperately want to touch myself, and my hips were shivering with the need to try and move, searching for something, anything, to rub against.

He was towering over me, watching me. All the time, he stayed upright, his hands resting on the undersides of my thighs to steady him. Having him above me like this, watching me, ordering me around, _using_ me… It should have bothered me how much I enjoyed it, how much I needed it, but it did not. Instead, I begged for more.

“Please touch me, please,” I managed in between the moans he wrung from me. “Please.” Another whimper. I could not look at him any more. It felt too good and he was too beautiful, I was burning up, and almost too late I realised that - -

“ ‘m close,” I stuttered hastily, and he stopped moving immediately. I squeezed my eyes shut, a strained groan forcing its way through my throat as I fought to keep myself from coming without his permission.

“Hold it back,” he barked. “That is an order.” Within an instant, I could feel the contract seal on my hand awakening, heat blazing through it the moment he said those words.

For a frenzied fraction of a second, I thought I might have to use otherworldly means to be able to obey his command. But I did not. It was as if my body recognised his words, and, although reluctantly, it let me back away from the brink of release.

I let out a breath I had not realised I was holding.

“Yes, my lord,” I recited, though my voice was nearly gone.

Through a haze of blood red, raw lust, I faintly noticed him looking at me, the smallest of smiles on his lips - he looked pleased. He ran his index finger from the very tip of my swollen cock, all the way to the base. On its entire way there, I howled out a dragged-out, desperate cry.

In that moment, I was certain I would have done absolutely anything to make him wrap his cool fingers around my cock, to stroke me, to relieve some of that searing need that coursed through my flesh.

He chuckled in response to my desperate cry, though he was almost as out of breath as I were.

And just like that, he started to move again.

Fingers digging into my thighs, he thrust into me in smooth, shallow motions. He moved fairly quickly and it must have felt just wonderful for him, the warm, pliant muscle inside me caressing every inch of him.

But, oh… To me, it was torture.

It did feel good. My, did it feel good. It felt amazing.

However, the way he moved, the shallowness of his thrusts, made it so that no matter how fast he went, it was never truly satisfactory. At least, not to me. I craved him hard and rough, and this way of moving was neither.

I don’t doubt that if he had kept going, he would have made me orgasm eventually. But, as it was, he was nearing his climax and I was being left behind.

Still, even with him using me like this, using me for his own pleasure and intentionally denying me my release, there was nothing about him that I did not adore.

All of him was perfect, how he made me feel was perfect. Perfect but so, so cruel.

It was not long before he nearly doubled over as he found his release, bucking into me with a few erratic but torturously deep, thorough thrusts. I could feel his cock pulsing, hot and heavy as he marked me with his come, as deep inside me as he could reach.

Everything was fire. I felt like if I moved even an inch, I would come. Like I would only have to look down and see our joined bodies to reach my limit.

Of course, the moment later when he pulled back and out of me, I did not come. I merely sobbed at the loss, a thin and defeated noise that I was certain I had never made before in my lengthy life.

“Please, master, please touch me,” I wept. The wait was maddening. I could almost feel his fingers on me, the thought nearly enough to make me moan out loud.

His voice was calm when he spoke, almost soothing.

“Look,” he said. He was looking at my cock where it was lying against my stomach, still twitching in sync with my heartbeat. “Look how much came out.” I looked. A whole little pool of pre-ejaculate had gathered on my stomach, enough that it had started to run down my side.

My stomach dropped when he stepped away and started to undress.

“That will be all for tonight,” he stated simply. “You can let go.” I let my fingers finally relax, only now noticing how stiff and sore they had become from the constant pull. “Until I say otherwise, you are not to touch yourself or do anything else that might be gratifying. I will be going to bed now. Get dressed in a hurry and find my nightwear.”

My mind felt slow and numb when I sat up and when I walked over to the chair that I had placed my folded clothes on.

Despite the new orders I had been given, it was quite a challenge to ignore how completely, utterly aroused I were. Of course, putting my clothes on was a simple task, but in this state, it felt like a punishment more than anything else. Even when I stood upright, my cock was flush against my stomach, red and swollen, demanding attention.

My breath was still shivering when I buttoned my trousers. They would have to be changed as soon as I left the room to clean up.

Assisting my master as he got ready for bed was second nature to me. I knew every movement by heart and they usually took no effort. But that day… Well, my mind was elsewhere. I had to restrain myself from straight out moaning in sheer need, or from touching myself, and the desire to do so was so strong that it took some level of concentration, not to mention willpower. The latter, I did not have much left of.

“That will be all, Sebastian. You may leave and finish your duties.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” I replied. 

Bowing my head to him, I turned and left the room.

“Have a good night,” he called out before I closed the door.

There was no doubt. I had never had any other master quite as cruel as the earl of Phantomhive. 


	2. Chapter 2

The following day, my master acted as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary. And while I was doing fine, this _was_ unusual.

Most of what had gone down the previous night was nothing new. He was in control as usual, he used his faithful servant as he pleased as usual, he had given orders and I had followed them as usual.

But he had not let me reach my climax, and _that_ was something entirely new.

I had heard of humans that liked to play this way before, denying their partner their orgasm, but my current master being like this… It was not something I had anticipated. He always made sure I was enjoying myself, and no matter how he might have acted the night before, I was still very certain that he only wanted to play in ways we both enjoyed.

Having halfway expected that he would want to play again in the morning, I found myself disappointed when he did not initiate anything at all. This feeling was not unfamiliar to me. Not with this master. There was barely ever a moment where I would not want to sleep with him. But this time, the feeling was stronger than usual. Having been left hanging the way I had the night before, the need for him to touch me again was almost urgent.

Still, I knew my place, and I did my duties as I would any other day.

It was not until the evening that he summoned me to his bedroom out of schedule.

When I entered the room, he did not even look up from his book. Instead, he merely made a vague gesture towards me, still caught up in his reading.

“Clothes,” he said.

Any other night, I might have pretended to need further clarification, but right then, my patience was not particularly abundant. It barely took me any time to undress. Before I could return to him, he spoke again.

“Come back here, and bring a pillow from the sofa.” Ah.

As I walked towards him, he gestured to the floor in front of his armchair. Now, this was something I was very much accustomed to, even just after the few months we had had a physically intimate relationship. He knew very well that he had every right to have me pleasure him, but also that I much desired to do just that.

Placing the pillow on the floor right in front of him, I proceeded to kneel on it. My legs were a little apart, just like he had taught me only a few weeks prior. He preferred to have me this way, nude while he was dressed, and as vulnerable and, mmh… Accessible, as I could make myself.

He finally put his book away.

“Go on then,” he instructed, and I nimbly, although I was eager, obeyed. I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down and out of the way as much as I could while he was seated. He responded by scooting his hips forward, closer to me.

In an instant, the scent of his sex filled the air around us. I could feel my eyes contort and reshape my pupils into long slits rather than the round, human ones I normally sported. The reaction was immediate, and it was not even something I did consciously, but something my body did on its own as a reaction to his presence and his arousal. His scent and his demands awoke something feral in me that I could not entirely control, nor cared to. And so easily, too.

“Hands behind your back. I’ll help you.” I felt almost tranquil, my mind pleasantly harmonious as I followed his order. With both of my hands behind my back, I leaned in closer. He held his cock at an angle where I could take it into my mouth easily, and I did.

Quietly, I groaned against his flesh. He tasted absolutely divine. Just from this much, just from tasting him, I could feel that I was growing hard, too. How sweet and tempting he was… _He_ was not completely hard just yet, but he was hot and heavy against my tongue, and I relished in the feel of the friction on my lips and my tongue.

Gazing up at him, I took him further into my mouth, and I could practically feel him harden. He was looking at me too, just then seeming like he could have lit me on fire only with his eyes. They were so, so warm - despite their shade of cool blue - and I could feel them taking me in even after I closed my own.

“And remember, no altering your throat. I want you to feel it.” His voice was soft, almost a purr. What he said was merely a reminder. He had made sure I knew just how he wanted this already, months ago. The rules were unchanged. I was to keep my body in the same form the whole time, and this included my throat being tight and sensitive enough that I would feel some discomfort while performing oral sex on him. And as it was, my physical body needed oxygen to properly function.

“Certainly, master,” I answered in between licks along his swollen length.

Even though he held his cock in place with his fingers, allowing me to easily let it slip into my mouth, performing this kind of task without using one’s hands was a tad more challenging. I could not use my hands to brace myself against his chair, so I had to keep my balance on my knees only, and so I found myself using my tongue more. Mostly, it was to lap up the saliva before it ran onto his thighs and his chair. He did not seem to mind this at all, praising me for the lewd display I put on for him.

I did not _feel_ particularly attractive looking in that moment, however. My hair was disarrayed from his fingers combing through it, and a thick coating of my own saliva was covering my lips, running down my chin.

Still, I found myself very much not wanting to stop what I was doing.

The sounds he made were nothing short of gorgeous, little gasps and strained groans spilling from his lips. Before long, I had gotten him completely hard. I could feel his heartbeat in the blood pumping through his body, and it caused another almost meek sound to make its way past my lips without me wanting it to.

With a groan of a word very unfitting for a respectable Earl’s mouth, his fist in my hair tightened. His other hand joined in on the other side of my head, grabbing onto my hair.

The small, pained noise I made was cut off by one of surprise when he pulled me closer by my hair, sheathing his cock inside my mouth completely. Although my body was tolerant, I could not quite keep myself from nearly choking on his length, but it turned into nothing more than a strained cough. I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating.

If he had let go of my hair just then, I would have lost my balance and I might have continued forward and bumped my head into his stomach. But he did not. Instead, he used his hands to move me exactly how he desired, penetrating my mouth over and over as he guided my head up and down the length of his shaft.

He did not simply tease. Every time he pushed my head down, it was _all_ the way down, my nose burying in the coarse hair around the base of his cock. The intrusion in my throat caused me to gag nearly every time he thrust himself into me, my eyes starting to prickle and water. Had they been open, he would have been able to see them rolling in their sockets as as lust overtook me.

More than once, reflexes caused me to jerk back, my body wanting me to pull away from him. It was brief every time though, and I managed to relax enough that he could easily keep me exactly where he wanted me.

Once again, it surprised me how much I desired this. How much I desired my master using me as as he wanted without even a hint of regard for my pleasure or even comfort.

Even in my long existence, I had not ever been subdued like this, let alone by a human. Honestly, I had not thought I would enjoy it, but this particular master had the right ingredients to make it beyond simply satisfactory. He gave the right orders, understood my nature well enough, pushed the right buttons… I wanted him so overwhelmingly much that I actually _needed_ him.

My own cock had been hard from the moment I took his in my mouth, and by now it was getting almost frustrating, being denied the right to touch myself as I serviced him. He usually let me, sometimes even commanded me to. But that day, he did not.

Despite focusing on my master, I could not completely ignore the dull, pulsing feeling of my own arousal, on-fire blood pumping through my veins and spreading like poison around my body. I was positively throbbing, enough so that I could feel my cock shifting against my stomach. The heat seeped from my abdomen and outwards, eventually enveloping my entire body as my master continued to fuck my mouth.

Without warning me, his movements suddenly froze and he kept my head still while his full length was all the way in past my lips. Within an instant, my eyes shot open, the pressure in my throat immediately growing intense enough that I was genuinely gagging. A broken sound came from my throat.

And another.

He kept me still by my hair, forcefully, sighing contentedly as he watched me struggle to breathe in.

My cock twitched. The water in my eyes finally overflowed, spilling down my cheeks.

He leaned his head back, a breathy moan coming from him as he kept me where I was and rocked his hips into the warmth that my body offered him. The muffled cry that I managed in response made him chuckle.

“That’s good. I love making you choke,” he praised, and I registered it somewhere in between the unceasing waves of heat, arousal and raw need that were taking control of my mind and my body.

When he finally pulled me back off him far enough that I could properly breathe in, he immediately repeated what he had done a moment earlier. I had only barely breathed in when my lips once more were sitting flush against the skin of his groin. Another wrangled sob escaped me, but he paid it no mind. He simply kept me still.

He did pull me off of him again, though, and this time he pushed me off him and back onto my knees, letting me find my balance. His eyes traveled up and down my body, shamelessly, taking in my form and my undeniably tousled state. They lingered at my lower body, and his lips curled into a grin.

“Look at yourself. You are so hard just from sucking me off. Do you love my cock that much?” I answered him truthfully.

“Yes, master.”

“Does it taste good?”

“Yes, master, it does.”

“Say it yourself.”

“Your cock tastes exquisite, master.”

“I bet you want it inside you so bad right now. Am I mistaken?”

“No, master, you are- ah—“ I was cut off when the sole of a petite shoe pressed against the underside of my cock, pushing it into my abdomen and staying there, resting against sensitive skin with all the weight that was behind it. “- very right.”

“Oh?” he purred. Increased pressure from his foot made me groan. The rough sole was scratchy and nothing like the friction I had so craved. I was not certain how he wanted me to reply, but he was clearly waiting for it. I looked down at the floor in front of me.

“I want to feel you inside-“

“What exactly?” he cut me off. I breathed in and tried again.

“Please, master, I want to feel your cock inside me.” My right arm twitched. I wanted to cover up. Was this simply a feeling of being too exposed? I was unsure, as it was not a feeling I was familiar with. But either way, following his orders, I had to remain on my knees with my hands behind me, bared in front of him.

“That’s what I thought,” was his reply. “Hm. Back to work.” Once more, he leaned into his armchair and held his cock in a way so I could easily take him back into my mouth. I did so hungrily.

Despite my best efforts, without my hands I could only do so much. But even so, it was not long before he wanted more - my master was always rather impatient.

Huffing, he ordered me to spread my legs further apart, and he moved to stand in between them. He nudged his cock against my lips and I obediently opened them to let him inside. Both his hands were on the back of my head. Rather than having me pleasure him, he was now taking the pleasure he wanted himself, claiming it as he fucked my mouth.

There was no trace of gentleness in how he moved. He knew he could not truly harm me, but still, the feeling of his length so deep in my throat was far from comfortable. He was making me choke and cough, the sounds of it mingling with the occasional sob as I struggled to breathe. Not once did any of it make him hesitate.

The moans that escaped me were so genuine and so pathetic. He was beautiful. It felt to me like he enjoyed himself so much that he could barely make himself pull away at all. How I adored pleasuring my master this way.

My hands were clenched into fists behind my back, and it was taking some determination to keep them where they were. I could feel my own neglected cock sitting heavy and warm against my stomach, the rawness his shoe left behind still lingering.

There was no warning before he climaxed, pushed as deep into my mouth as he could get. It was magnificent, his laboured moans and cries, the throb of his cock against my tongue, _him_ …

His taste was overwhelming. It was so distinct and so utterly delicious it was dizzying. His very essence being delivered in such a way, and to a mere servant… My eyelids fluttered in ecstasy as I sat there in awe after he pulled away, gasping for breath, still tasting him.

When I opened my eyes, he was sat comfortably in his armchair. His cheeks were flushed from his efforts, but otherwise he looked very composed.

I looked up at him, waiting for new orders. For at least a full minute, we sat there quietly, both catching our breath. Only then, he bothered to look at me again. Maybe, just maybe, I had a sliver of expectancy on my face. In any case, he looked amused seeing me.

“Come on, stand up,” he told me. When I did, he guided me closer to him, then motioned for me to lift up my leg and lean my knee on the arm rest of his chair.

He spat into his palm - what a crude thing for a nobleman to do - and proceeded to nonchalantly smear the saliva onto two of his fingers. My body was already well within his reach even as he leaned back. And he wasted no time getting to the point.

His damp fingers briefly ran along my perineum, searching, before he all but shoved both of them up into my anus. The sudden intrusion made me cry out in surprise, the ragged sound tearing itself through my abused throat. My abdominal muscles tensed up so abruptly that I nearly doubled over. But I stayed where I were.

Before I could fully recompose myself, he was moving. Slowly and steadily he used his fingertips to massage that most tender spot inside me. My master was very familiar with this part of my body, and it took little effort for him to make me moan out loud for him. Over and over. He knew just how to touch me to have my legs trembling and my cries growing desperate.

I stole a glance down at him. He looked stern, concentrated. Powerful. He knew that I wanted, no, needed what he was giving me. Especially after the previous night. When my hips stuttered against his hand seeking more of the friction he provided, he did not even bother scolding me.

Oh, it was most torturous. What he was doing felt incredible, but I craved so much more, needed him to take me with all he had and wreck me. Even so, I was being so loud as he touched me, shamelessly moaning out my pleasure for him to hear.

I am fairly certain it was less than two minutes before I had to warn him that I was close to my climax. His fingers stilled.

“You want to come, don’t you?” he teased. My voice nearly broke when I replied, I was so aroused and so, so close.

“Master, yes, I need it, please… Please make me come.” He chuckled.

“You are so needy, Sebastian. Begging me like this… How shameful.”

When he moved his fingers again, I threw my head back, crying out for him. My legs nearly gave out under me, but somehow I remained standing. I could feel my cock throbbing against my stomach, reacting to every nudge of his fingers against my prostate. It felt as though it was straining against its own skin, so hard it nearly ached.

Just as I could feel myself getting close to orgasm again, he stopped. And he pulled his fingers out. I mewled.

“Like yesterday, you are not allowed to relieve or stimulate yourself in any way until I say so. Now, go and clean up in a hurry, then bring me a cup of tea before bed.”

Fully aware of what he was doing, I opened my mouth to ask him to please think over it again before sending me off. But I did not even utter a syllable before he stopped me.

“Don’t be troublesome. I believe I gave you an order.” 

As I left the room to clean myself up, I could not help but wonder what he would reply if I asked him how many more nights he planned to do this. Certainly, he could not mean to keep this up?


End file.
